


Winds of Change - Interlude: Wild Love

by AlterEgon



Series: Winds of Change [10]
Category: Blood Books - Tanya Huff, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 10:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlterEgon/pseuds/AlterEgon
Summary: Maryse is not the only one for whom that night spent with Peter Heerkens had unintended consequences.Forced into exile for breaking pack law, Peter is joined by his sister as he travels south.  Meeting Maia's pack in New York may not start out quite the way they had planned, and this time it is Rose who feels that maybe the pack rules they grew up with might not be quite what she wants to live by.





	Winds of Change - Interlude: Wild Love

In his dreams, Storm was running.

It wasn't his usual lope, made to look easy only be years of practice. When he was asleep, he was moving as he had when he'd been young, before his paw had been torn by a poison-coated wolf trap.

In his dreams, Storm was chasing down large pray, the kind he could never hope to keep up with in his waking life anymore. There was another wolf running by his side, her coat a deep black, her stride as long and powerful as his own. That wasn't right, as part of him realized even while asleep, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The hunt was perfect, to be enjoyed and savored.

But, in the way that dreams worked, the deer ahead of him shifted, shrinking, its fur changing color, the shape of its body and head changing.

When it stopped its mad dash for safety, whirling and snarling, it wasn't a deer at all ahead of him, but another wolf like him.

He skidded to a halt, paws firmly planted, head lowered just a little.

If anything, his uncle was larger than in life, his snarl more vicious.

But he was younger and more agile, and he was going to take his position at the head of the pack today, to take the place his father had held before him.

Storm tensed, his body coiling to spring, ready to launch himself into the brawl until Tag was caught under him, exposing his throat and submitting to his nephew.

*

Peter tumbled out of bed, awake before he hit the floor.

He groaned, first against the pain blossoming in his nose from the impact, then at the dream.

For the longest time, he had accepted that he would never be the one to take over the family pack. He may not have done so graciously, but fantasizing about defeating his uncle hadn't been something he'd wasted perfectly good time and energy on in years.

That one night, just a few months ago, had changed that.

Raking a hand through his hair, he reached for the edge of his bed with the other to balance him as he stood. Even after all this time, his damaged ankle wasn't reliable enough to take his weight and help push him up elegantly. Damaged tendons and nerves had never healed enough for that.

There was no point in trying to get back to sleep. Besides, he felt like he needed some fresh air, and more of it than an open window would provide.

Slowly, moving carefully so as not to wake up the rest of the household, he made his way outside, more acutely aware of his limp than he usually was. Every time his foot, unable to lift up as it should when he stepped forward, dragged across the carpet, he felt something tighten inside him.

He didn't have to analyze his emotions, jumbled though they were. He was well enough familiar with the mix. There was anger, at the man who had caught him, and more at himself, for falling for the trap and allowing it. Regret for the things he had lost before ever gaining them, the position in the pack that should have been his even if he'd never made it to leader. Shame for his failings, his inability to assert that position, his unwillingness to even try, letting his much younger cousins pass him by easily in rank. It was only made worse by knowing no one else blamed him for it.

And, more recently, all of that had been spiced up with an abject fear that he locked away in himself and hoped and prayed that he was doing well enough at it to not let the others smell it on him.

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting outside on the bench by the front door, the night air and a slight breeze in his face, when the smell of coffee wormed its way into his nose, drawing him from his thoughts.

Looking up, he found himself facing his older brother, stark naked just as he was, a cup of steaming liquid in either hand.

He took one of them gratefully and blew on the dark surface to cool it off a little.

Colin settled by his side, cradling his own cup in his hands.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Peter asked. The first sip of coffee burned his mouth. He focused on the pain, letting it drive away everything else.

"You don't think I haven't noticed something's been going on with you recently?" the older man asked. He kept his eyes on his cup, not challenging by trying to make eye contact.

Peter shrugged, unwilling to give a verbal response.

They sat in silence for long minutes, drinking small sips and contemplating the night, each in their own way.

Eventually, Peter gave a small sigh. "I did a bad thing, Colin."

His brother started, turning to look at him. Surprise registered on his face, then amusement. "What did you do? Did you turn one of Stuart's prize sheep into a snack?"

"Wish that it was that."

Silence stretched again as Peter looked away.

"I lay with a woman," he said eventually.

"What?" Colin sputtered. He had just been about to take another sip from his cup. "You what?"

"That night a while ago?" Peter asked. "The last time I stayed away over night. Stuart was furious. You remember."

"Stuart is always furious when you don't come home," Colin pointed out. He went through what Peter had just said in his mind. As a policeman, he was used to analyzing statements he received.

"I don't believe you," he said eventually. "None of ours were in heat recently, and if there was a strange wolf wandering through, _in heat_ , that close, we all would have known."

"She wasn't a wolf." His voice was flat, without emotion. He'd started admitting to his crime now. He might as well tell all of it.

"I still don't believe you. I know what human women smell like. I would never – you would never—"

"She wasn't human either," Peter interrupted him, releasing his cup with one hand to rub his face with it. "I don't even know what she was for sure. She smelled almost right. Right enough in any case."

Colin stared at him. He didn't know what it was he had just said that had turned the tide, but his brother was considering for the first time that he could be telling the truth after all.

"You're serious." Colin decided after another moment.

Peter nodded.

The other man had tensed, a small motion shifting him away from his younger brother. It wasn't much, but it didn't escape his notice. He knew what was about to come.

Pack rules, pack laws, were clear. In retrospect, he had no idea what he had thought would happen if he confided in Colin, a policeman, set to uphold the law by choice as well. What had he expected his brother to say? This wasn't a prank pulled by an immature puppy. This was—

"As your brother," Colin said slowly, "I am not going to go inside now and inform Stuart."

Just as Peter was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he continued. "I give you 24 hours to set this right. You can challenge Stuart, or you can leave. If you haven't done either by tomorrow morning, I will do what the pack needs me to do."

*

It was night again, and once again Peter found himself sneaking out of the farmhouse.

Dressed this time, it was even harder not to make a noise in boots and carrying a duffle. At least the footwear supported his ankle enough to conceal most of his limp.

The thought sent another spike through him. It may have made walking more comfortable and less conspicuous, but it also made him unable to change. His life was a constant choice between reminding everyone of his weakness, or denying himself half of his nature.

Colin had been watching him all day. He'd felt his eyes on him at dinner.

He hadn't challenged Stuart. He hadn't crawled to him to beg forgiveness either. He knew what shape that forgiveness would take.

A slim shadow detached itself from the trees between the house and the parking lot. Moonlight reflected on white-blonde hair.

Relief flooded him. He hadn't been sure she would follow his request at all.

"Why," his twin sister asked without preamble, "are you texting me to tell you to meet me out here to say goodbye? Why are you sneaking away in the middle of the night? You've never talked about wanting to leave the pack!"

"I don't want to," he returned, speaking softly to avoid waking anyone inside. Wolf ears were good at picking up sound. "I have no choice. I do not wish to be dead. Castration at the hands of our uncle doesn't sound very desirable either."

"Castration?" Rose repeated, surprise startling a laugh out of her. "Peter what have you _done_?"

Peter lowered his eyes. "Exactly what you're thinking."

He kept his gaze fixed to the ground as he repeated what he had told Colin the night before. He'd thought it might be easier the second time around, but it really wasn't.

He didn't look up when he was finished. He didn't need to see the same disgust in his sister's face that had been in their brother's throughout the day, whenever Colin had looked at him.

She was silent for a moment. Then she reached out, her hand tipping his chin up to make him face her again.

"You're an idiot, Peter," she informed him calmly. "Confiding in Colin, of all people. You know how he is with rules."

He felt his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. "Glad to see that's the worst part of the story for you."

"We're taking my car."

It took a second for her words to register properly.

"You mean you're driving me to the airport?" he asked.

"No." She turned and bent, snatching up a heavy object from the ground. To his surprise, he realized she had brought a bag of her own. "I mean you're not going alone. Where's your phone?"

"In my room," he told her. "I didn't want it on me just in case Colin decides leaving isn't good enough after all."

"Good call." She slid her own out of her pocket and placed it on the ground between the trees. "Now let's go."

He had to hurry to catch up with her as she quickly made her way to the family's parking lot and snapped open the trunk of her car to toss her bag in.

"Rose, you can't just run off with me," he said, hesitating to put his own in with hers.

Her eyes were sparkling in the scant light. "And why not?" she asked. "We're twins. We've always belonged together. Where you go, I go. I would never be whole, not knowing where you are. Besides which, I _want_ to leave." She moved to the door on the driver's side, where she stopped again to look at him over the roof of her car. "Are you getting in?"

He shook his head. "We'll get used to it," he claimed. "Rose, you have a place in the pack. You have a job. You have a career. You have a _life_. I have nothing here other than fetching and carrying for our uncle. I can do that just as well somewhere else, for someone else. You'd be throwing away everything."

"Throwing away what?" she asked. "Peter, I don't think you understand. My career? Have you ever wondered why I'm not taking more cases than I do, why I spend so much time without any – like now – or why they're all to the same pattern? No?" She didn’t wait for an answer. She didn't sound angry at him. If anything, her tone was satisfied. "It's because Stuart and Nadine set the rules for what I'm allowed to work on. It cannot ever be anything that would get media attention. Nothing that might require me to spend time travelling, and nothing that would be likely to keep me out at night to get things finished. Preferably nothing not related to farming or property management which, frankly, is not my own favorite subject." She nodded towards the back of her car. "I did not pack that bag today. I just took it out of my closet."

It took a moment for her words to sink in.

"You've wanted to leave?" he asked. "But you never said—and you never told me you were unhappy!"

"I did say I wanted to leave," she returned. "But you always took it for jokes. And no, I was very careful about the other. Happy that it worked, too. Can you promise me that if you'd known you wouldn't have gone and confronted Stuart about it?"

He had no idea what to say to that. They'd probably have to talk about the matter some more. Later, away from the farm, away from the smells of their family.

Wordlessly, he slammed the trunk shut on his bag and slid into the passenger seat. His sister had already settled next to him by the time he cinched the seat belt. "Alright. Drive."

*

They had discussed a few possible destinations, but quickly settled on one:

Just a bit more than half a year ago, they had crossed paths with another werewolf. The young woman had been a very different kind of creature from them, as surprised and taken aback by their explanations of their own pack life as they were by hers.

Nothing had come out of trying to convince Stuart to invite her for a visit so far. In fact, their Uncle hadn't been amenable to the idea in the least, worried that introduction of a wolf so strange would only be a bad influence on his cubs.

No one could keep them from having a look at her pack now, though.

It would be a surprise visit. Her phone number was still stored on their phones, but those were out of their reach now.

"I can see that this city is going to be terrible," Rose announced as they made their way towards  the place where Maia had told them she worked. "All these clothes…"

Peter smirked at her. "You have to wear all those clothes in court, too," he reminded her. "And more of them than you are now."

"But then I'm being paid for it," his sister returned. "This is my own time. I shouldn’t be tied down like this while I am only beholden to myself."

"I'm sure there's a park somewhere where we can run." Peter pulled out his phone. They had bought new ones as soon as they had arrived, to make sure that they would be able to reach each other if they had to split up. "Look, there's a big huge one right there." He held the screen so she could see it.

"Mark for later," she suggested. "First, we see if we can find Maia, and then we should get accommodation for a few nights at least. Running can wait."

He didn't point out that she'd claimed the opposite not five minutes ago. He understood. Complaining about having to be fully dressed was a habit deeply ingrained in her, and one he had shared with enthusiasm until his injury. Since then, people were just a bit too quick in pointing out his choices.

The Hunter's Moon was a bar that smelled of creatures both familiar and entirely strange, the bouquet tantalizing and fascinating to the point where they could have just stood in the entrance and sniffed the air for hours, sorting through everything they perceived.

That, however, was generally considered rude.

"You're the one with bar experience," Rose said to her brother. "You lead."

"And there I thought you're the one with the bar examination," he returned, grinning.

"Wrong sort of bar," Rose laughed.

This one, in any case, was manned by a young man who smelled distinctively of wolf, in the same slightly off fashion that Maia did.

Peter led the way, taking possession of one of the stools. Rose climbed on the one next to him, realizing as she did so that her brother must, indeed, have plenty of experience in venues of this kind. In any case, she found the manner of getting on those seats a lot more awkward than he made it look, and she had two perfectly good feet.

"A beer for each of us," Peter ordered. They watched him tap the drinks with the practiced motions of someone who spent many nights doing just this work.

"New in town?" he asked as he placed them on the counter."

Peter nodded. "Passing through, actually. Thought we'd visit a friend while we were here. Maia Roberts. The last we heard, she was working here?"

Recognition flashed in his face, but he smiled apologetically as he nodded. "That's too bad. Maia's out of town right now. Travelling with some friends. I've no idea when she'll be back."

"Are you part of her pack?" Peter asked.

If the man was surprised to be recognized as a werewolf, he didn't show it. Then again, given what the place smelled like and what the few other patrons currently in attendance looked like, it might have been common knowledge.

"I am," he admitted without hesitation. "Bat Velasquez." He offered his hand. As they took it, they noticed without much surprise that, it was barely callused. The werewolves of Maia's kind avoided the change.

"Do you figure the pack would let us stay a while and wait for her?"  Rose asked. "We don’t have any immediate obligations and – it might be more comfortable among other wolves."

"You need to talk to Luke about that," Bat informed them. "Our alpha. No idea if he'll come in here tonight, but you can probably wait for him at the Jade Wolf."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Jade Wolf, Hunter's Moon… Are all the good establishments werewolf-named?"

He laughed. "Not really. The warlock club is called Pandemonium, for one. Where are you staying?"

"Nowhere yet," Peter admitted. "Any recommendations?"

"Yeah," Bat returned. "Talk to Luke."

*

Most people might have found the distances in New York a bit far to walk, but the two of them didn't mind. Even after the incident with the wolf trap, Peter was used to covering plenty of ground on foot, both on two and on four legs. After all, his main job so far had been that of a farmhand and sheepherder, and he had to get to the grazing lands somehow.

"A detour," Rose suggested, back in wolf complaint mode now that they knew they weren't going to find Maia any time soon. "Let's run at least a little before we go on. I haven't had a good run all day, or yesterday for that matter."

Laughing, Peter agreed. "I've run plenty enough yesterday. You can go first," he offered her generously. "I'm sure we can find a stick in the park…"

His sister rolled her eyes. "And have me fetch it like a common dog?" she asked him, amused. "In contrast to you, I didn't pack in a hurry. I brought a frisbee."

There were still plenty of people in the park in spite of the late hour.

More specifically, there were plenty of people leaving the park just as they arrived. They didn't exactly stream from it as if from a theater after the show had ended, but there was a definite direction to the general flow of people.

The siblings looked at each other.

"Do they smell scared to you?" Peter asked.

Rose focused, her nostrils flaring. "Damned if I could tell without getting closer," she determined after a few moments. "Even here it all smells of city, and at least half this city smells scared."

Her brother nodded, pointing at a clump of bushes dense enough to conceal a person. "You might want to use that."

Not _everyone_ was leaving, and nothing made you realize just how many people were nearby than getting ready to drop your clothes in the middle of a park. Now, if only people hadn't been so very impractical about that. No werewolf would ever have cared to wear clothes at all in this sort of weather if it wasn't for the sensitivities of the species that held most of the country.

On second thoughts, that wasn't entirely true. Maia had certainly preferred being dressed.

She hadn't grown up in a proper pack, though…

Rose put down her bag and opened the zip for an outer pocket, bringing out a patterned frisbee. It was the sort that had fabric stretched over a ring, safer to carry than a full plastic one. It was also new. Anything on the farm, down to the things in their rooms, belonged to Stuart and Nadine. Clearly, she hadn't had any wish to take what was theirs. While Peter wondered if the clothes she carried were all new, too, bought and put away to wait for this day, his sister had sauntered off towards the concealing greenery.

Cloud emerged only seconds later, startling several dogs playing with their owners nearby. The humans might see only an unusually large white dog in Cloud, but their canine friends recognized her for what she was.

*

Luke was walking Central Park, all senses alert.

He didn't think he normally would have paid much attention to reports of two dead dogs in the park, apparently killed by a larger predator during off-leash hours. With Underhill's information about killings that could be ascribed to a werewolf approaching New York, it had drawn his attention enough to investigate.

Some googling had brought him a few more cases of dogs recently lost without a trace, but never made official beyond internet complaints. He was going to assume that had something to do with people not wanting to admit that they had let their pets out of their sight.

Off-duty for the night, he had decided to at least have a look at the general vicinity in question. If he found evidence of anything that wasn't mundane in origin, he could still decide whether to do something about it or report it to the appropriate authorities – or more likely, tip off Underhill.

If not, at least he wouldn't spend the night wondering and worrying if maybe the next half-eaten body would be a person's.

He had planned to simply crisscross the section of park that he had marked out based on the cases he had, checking if there was anything he could spot, or smell, or otherwise sense.

He discarded the option of finding an entirely mundane cause at the root of the issue almost as soon as he began looking. The weather was good and the night still young. There shouldn't have been so many people coming the other way.

Looking around him, he feared that something was driving every single mundane with even the smallest bit of sensitivity to the shadow world from the very place

Odd, he mused as he rounded a bend in the path. Dogs should have been more sensitive than humans, and yet those walking with their people seemed less concerned than the two-leggers who determined where they were going.

As he continued, the park around him went from unusually sparsely populated to completely abandoned.

He stopped, turning slowly and taking in his surroundings with all the attention of Shadowhunter training, werewolf senses carried over into human form and habit from police work.  Safe under his glamor, his hand went for the blade he was once again carrying routinely.

"Well, come out," he muttered. "Whatever you are."

Nothing happened, and he almost laughed at himself as he continued. What had he expected? A rogue Shadow creature barging out of the undergrowth to engage him in combat?

All his senses told him that there was nothing. For all he could tell, there was one predator in this section of the park at the moment – and that one was carrying a seraph blade and looking utterly ridiculous, playing at being a Shadowhunter and looking for a thing that probably didn't even exist.

One more pass, he told himself. He'd walk the width of this section one last time. Then he would leave and call it a night.

He turned, and would have frozen in shocked surprise if training hadn't taken over instantly.

Even standing less then ten feet away, he would have missed it if it hadn't stood in plain view. He couldn't feel the air of wrongness he might have sensed around a demon. It had no smell to it at all, for all that the brown fur looked matted and as if, by all rights, it should be exuding a most unpleasant odor.

The body shape was closer to that of a hyena than a wolf, though there was a zigzag patterning down its back and a row of sharp spikes pointing up from the line of its spine. Some Seelie creature, Luke realized, either come through one of their portals or deliberately set loose in the park. Maybe it had been a hunting companion once, engineered to not be noticed by its prey until it was too late.

It was easily twice the size of his own wolf shape, which was urging to the fore as adrenalin shot through him and he shifted his stance, sword at the ready.

The creature stood still for another moment, seeming as surprised as he had been at its first glance of him. Then it charged, mouth opening to expose razor-sharp teeth that had to somehow fold back when its jaws were closed. There was no way that dentition could fit in that muzzle otherwise.

It gave a roar as it shot forward, the pitch not one audible to strictly mundane ears.

Giving silent thanks that he wasn't in wolf shape and therefore only got a small suggestion of the sound, though he felt it vibrate in his bones and touch on a primal fear anyone untrained would have been helpless to, Luke brought up his weapon without thinking about it.

Then it was above him. He felt his blade connect, sinking deeply through fur and flesh, slashing and catching on something.

The sword was wrenched from his hand as the creature reared, bleeding but not slowed.

Its head shot down, only lighting reflexes allowing Luke to jerk back in time to turn a bite into a graze. Teeth closed inches from his skin as he continued his movement, one hand going for his gun – though he had no idea how much the thing in front of him would respond to unenhanced bullets – while he tried to keep the hilt of his sword, almost concealed under dirty fur, the snapping jaws and the claws of the creature's front feet, which looked no less deadly, in sight at the same time.

It moved in again, faster this time, aiming for a killing strike. It was angry at being wounded, he realized, but not mindlessly so.

The wolf in him was urging up, battling his hold on the change.

As he threw himself sideways, his shoulder slamming hard into a rock jutting from the ground, he released it.

Fabric tore the moment his body changed, a fitting sound to accompany the pain shooting through him as his bones deformed, his joints rearranged themselves and his inner organs shifted to fit the new body shape. The first roar of a changing wolf was a scream of pain, though barely anyone who hadn't experienced it would ever know.

He twisted, springing to his feet and out of the remains of his jeans and shirt, evading another attack and taking in the creature through wolf senses.

It still had no scent. There still was barely a feel to it. But he could hear the sounds it made now clearly, and those spoke of hunger, and bloodlust.

When it attacked gain, he met it, teeth with teeth, claws with claws. He had fought demons in this shape before, and won.

The creature beat down on him, almost pinning him to the ground. Evading, though just barely, he kept his eyes fixed on the head, waiting for it to move. His best chance would be getting at the throat…

Just as he flexed body, wolf legs propelling him forward in a way human ones would have stood no chance of doing, a ghostly shape came flying through the air, joining the fray.

Not flying, he realized as his own teeth made contact. It had launched itself in a huge, well-aimed leap, clinging to the thing as if ready to wrestle it to the ground while avoiding its spikes.

In human shape, he might have mistaken his helper for a dog. As he was now, he could tell without a doubt that it was a wolf – a she-wolf, too.

His bite wasn't as well placed as he would have liked, but at least his jaws had closed on more than fur. The creature's flesh had a sickly taste to it, making it hard to keep from spitting out what he held in disgust.

A third wolf came hurtling at them, with russet fur and smell so clean as if he had a habit of going to a dog parlor. In any other situation, he might have found the thought amusing.

*

They stood apart, looking at each other across the carcass, three wolves gauging each other with cautious curiosity.

Though they were both tousled and bloodied from the fight now, Luke found it impossible not to notice that the other two had gone into the battle impeccably groomed. He'd never seen his own wolf shape, but he had a feeling that he still looked downright shaggy by comparison. They were easily his size, possibly a little larger even. The look with which they seized him up, just as their coordination in the battle, made it impossible to see them as anything other than what they were: werewolves, with a human intelligence in those furred bodies.

Not any werewolves, he realized. These had to be the kind Clary and her friends had talked about. The kind that Maia had met. Diana's chosen. They were—

The white wolf shifted, outlines melting and morphing into the body of a human woman with short blonde hair. She seemed not the least disturbed at standing naked before him.

Sparing only a brief glance at a scratch that ran the length of her right forearm, she turned her attention back to him immediately. "I'm Rose," she said. "And this is Storm."

Then the white wolf was back. The change looked so easy and painless for her…

"I'm Peter."

He had missed the red wolf shifting. "That is Cloud."

He remembered the names. He remembered what Maia had told them, that they used different names for each of their shapes. There weren't just some wolves like those she had met. Unless the names were incredibly common among their kind, this was the precisely same pair. What were they doing in New York?

They both went through their shapes a few more times, leaving him confused as to the reason, until Rose, human and still entirely unconcerned with her nudity, took a step towards him. "You can sit there and wait for the venom to take effect, or you can get over your issues with people seeing you changed and get it out of your system," she told him calmly. "It _did_ catch you, too."

She was right about that. With the battle high ebbing from his body, he could feel the bruises from where he had hit the ground, and the steady pulsing of his blood in the scratches he had suffered. But he couldn't—

"Your puppy was terribly stupid about that, too," Peter noted. He had come to stand next to his sister, equally naked, and equally unabashed. "And it might have killed her."

Maia hadn't kept that detail from him – or what the two wolves had nicknamed her.

Gritting his teeth and fighting the training that told him not to change where he was being watched by strangers, along with the entirely unrelated desire not to suddenly appear naked before the two, he reached for all that made Luke human.

*

Every werewolf Luke knew had stashes of clothing all over the city, and he was no exception. By the time the other two had retrieved their things and gotten dressed, he, too, was back in jeans and a t-shirt, and had retrieved his wallet, phone and gun from what was left of his previous attire.

He had sketched _iratze_ charms on himself and on the other two, quickly making their scratches disappear. It took away some of the lingering ache of repeated changes, as he found out, though he still felt an underlying soreness in his bones.

"I've called someone to get rid of the evidence," he had told them, and hadn’t been able to suppress a grin at the face Rose made. "What? Were you proposing we eat it so no one stumbles on it and wonders?"

"We didn't exactly have dinner," she'd returned. "And not much of a lunch. But I don't assume it would have tasted any nicer on the inside than it did on the outside."

He would have liked to assume she was joking, but after what Maia had told him, he didn't think so. He'd taken them to the Jade Wolf instead, and ordered a meal for all three of them.

As they finished their dinner and he offered them some of the rooms they kept for new werewolves who needed a place to stay near the pack for safety, his own reaction at their speedy agreement surprised him. They certainly were strange wolves, those two, but what they shared was fascinating, and they listened to his input without condemning or ridiculing his kind for how they lived. They'd talked about more mundane subjects, too, and though they skirted around the reason they had left their own pack, he was certain they didn't harbor any malice towards his own. Thinking about it, he didn't remember when he had last enjoyed himself as much at a meal as he just had.

Probably back when Jocelyn had still been around, when Clary had still lived at home and they had spent a day together.

The memory hurt less than it had. He didn't even know when the pain of Jocelyn's death had started to dull, and he wasn't sure if it was right to welcome it.

On its heels came another thought, unbidden and not entirely welcome.

That feeling of connection he'd experienced in the last hours was too familiar. He hadn't expected to ever experience it again. He certainly wasn't ready for it now.

Following a need for fresh air, he'd gone outside, only to realize that it did nothing to calm his thoughts.

Even after their brief acquaintance, he knew what those two would have recommended: Change, and run, and let the simplicity of being a wolf push away whatever confused his human mind for a while.

He wished it had been that simple for him.

He walked, following the water along the same path he had taken with Underhill not too long ago.

Eventually he stopped, face in the wind, focusing on the feel of the air on his skin and not the smell in his nose. He remembered the first time he had met Jocelyn. There'd been that moment of instant connection then, too. He'd never lost that until her death, though to the last he had not been sure if she'd ever felt it, too, or if she'd simply used him as a convenient helper when she had left most of the Shadow World  behind.

He hadn't cared. Having reason to be close to her had been all he'd wanted, though they had never taken it any further than that. He wondered what Clary was thinking their relationship had been.

Like the puppy Rose and Peter called Maia, he'd hung around her, lapping up what affection she was willing to dispense.

Luke frowned at himself. Where had that thought come from? That wasn't how it had been. That was—

But that was exactly how it had been, and something inside him had shifted just enough to take away his ability to deny it to himself.

With a sigh, he turned to walk back. He clearly wasn't in the right mindset to be alone with his thoughts.

For the second time that day, he started at an unexpected sight. At least now it was simply a matter of him standing upwind.

Barefoot and covered only by a simple blue dress, easy to shrug out of without any effort, Rose was keeping a distance, far enough to not intrude but close enough to tell him she didn't mind being seen.

He had raised his hand and waved at her before he had completely processed the information.

She came to join him, standing to look the way he had before.

"Do you ever escape the city smells?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "I barely notice them," he admitted. When she didn't reply immediately, he continued to fill the silence. "I have a place out in the countryside, though. If you and your brother need a place to stay for a while and you can't abide the city, you may use it - if you can share it with my sister."

"Is she a wolf, too?" Rose asked, curiosity in her voice.

The thought made him chuckle in spite of himself. "She's a Shadowhunter, and a special sort of them. But she's not—She did some things. By their standards, she's a criminal." There, he had said it. "She's staying there because it isn’t safe for her to return. She wouldn't harm you."

She was silent for another moment. "So are we," she said eventually.

"You're what?" Her words confused him for a moment.

"Criminals." She said it as matter-of-factly as if she'd said: hungry. "By our people's standards. Peter is, in any case, and I by extension for coming with him. There's no return to our pack for us."

"What did he do?" Even as he spoke, he realized that asking that question might not be the smartest thing to do. Sure – he needed to know what sort of people he let into his pack, but so far their policy had been that the thing that mattered was that they weren't getting them in trouble after they joined. She had no reason to know he wouldn't turn on them, though, no reason to answer the question at all. She'd had no reason to admit to it in the first place.

And they _had_ told him their older brother was with the police back in their hometown. He was about to reassure her that he wasn't going to pull out the handcuffs and drag him off to a cell in any case, when she replied.

"He disrespected the laws of the pack. Among our people, only the highest-ranking male and the highest-ranking female mate. He went and did it anyway. With a – a non-wolf to boot. She wasn’t even in heat from what he said. I have no idea how that ever worked, but here we are."

"Probably in human shape," Luke suggested. When Maia had said these wolves had no concept of privacy, she had apparently referred to more than just their disregard for nudity.

She laughed. It was a full, honest sound, quite different from the giggles he often heard when someone tried to make another feel like they'd said something amusing. "Humans usually smell quite disgusting to us," she elaborated. "I don't think I could…" She studied him for a moment. "I smell the wolf on you. And something else, too but it's not a bad scent."

"Thank you, I think," Luke said, feeling heat rise to his face. There was no reason to feel like he was sixteen again and watching his best friend's girlfriend. Also, she probably hadn't meant that the way it had sounded to him.

"Who's your head female?"

Or maybe she had.

"I don't have one. Our packs don't work like that. Maia's my second in command but she's not – She's‑" He broke off, wrestling the words under control. "She's barely older than my foster-daughter of sorts, and we don't work like that anyway. When we 'mate', as you put it, we do it because we like the other person. We also don't go into heat."

"I know you don't," she informed him. "I didn't get my degree by direct mail, you know. I went to high school and university with humans, like everyone else." She didn't sound angry, which he found himself strangely grateful for.

Before he could reply and apologize, she continued: "I think that's what Peter did. Because he liked her. And when he realized what he did, he ran away in a panic so he didn't even get her number and now he'll never find her again." She looked up at him, studying his face. "If it's not your pack rules," she asked, curiosity and confusion in her tone, "why are we both standing here in these things?" She plucked at her dress.

Luke barely suppressed a physical flinch. She hadn't just—had she?

"What do you mean?" he inquired carefully.

"You say you mate when you like someone. You like me. I smell that, too. Shouldn't we be… shifting and – I don't know? Get to it? I've never been a head female. I don't know how it works."

Luke took a deep breath. "Not like that," he said, his voice low. "We don't—I do not mate like an animal. I—" He glanced at her, afraid that he'd just insulted her and irrationally glad that he saw only interest in her look, and a sort of understanding.

"Maia told us you're taught to suppress the wolf," she said. "To think it's filthy and bad. It's not. But that's okay. I don't think I have to be a wolf for it."

"My kind," Luke said, wondering as he did so why he was even discussing this with a woman he had met only hours ago, "is supposed to connect to another person only once in our lives. I've had that, and she died. I'm not supposed to feel the way I've felt since this afternoon."

She smiled, and somehow he knew that smile was directed as much at her own thoughts as it was at him. "My kind is not supposed to feel a wish to mate outside of heat. Maybe there is something wrong with me today, or maybe that is only a thing we are taught to keep up pack order. And maybe there is something wrong with you today, and maybe being a wolf has changed you, and maybe it was never true, for anyone, to begin with. Does it matter?"

Did it? He wasn't sure. But she was standing close, and no matter which way the wind was blowing, there was no chance he couldn't pick up the scent of desire, and feel the response inside him.

He turned to her, still uncertain what to say.

Then the need to say anything was gone, because she matched the motion, and her hand came up to cup his face just as his somehow twined itself in her hair, and their lips met in a long, hungry kiss he hadn't known he had needed.

They parted for a moment, both breathing heavily. There was a light shining in her eyes, and he knew his own were blazing werewolf green.

"Wow," she breathed, leaning in again.

The second time was gentler. He forced the wolf in him down as far as he could. Some corner of his mind told him she'd never do that. If he chose this, if he allowed himself to go as much as one step further, he would have to come to grips with that. He didn't know what it would entail. He had no idea what it would mean for him in the long run.

"Wow," she repeated, the accompanying sound one of pure joy.

He closed his eyes for a moment to make sure he had himself under control. He smelled the wolf on her more strongly now, and something inside him wanted to react to that, too.

"Why are we stopping?" she inquired, still sounding breathless.

"We're out in public." His own voice sounded strange to him.

He could picture her raising her eyebrows at him even without looking. There wasn't a soul in sight.

"Then it's lucky someone gave me a room earlier," she told him, her hand reaching for his and pulling gently. "Would that be private enough?"

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Winds of Change - Interlude: Wild Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324699) by [Accal1a](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accal1a/pseuds/Accal1a)




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